


do you want to build a snowman?

by jaimelanniser



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimelanniser/pseuds/jaimelanniser
Summary: Sansa and Jaime build a snowman.





	do you want to build a snowman?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseweasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseweasley/gifts).



Sansa Stark was building a snowman.

She rarely left Baelish’s house, and when she did, she was usually accompanied by her ‘uncle’. Jaime hadn’t been fooled by the supposed relation; no, he had recognised Catelyn Tully’s daughter the moment she appeared next door.

He knew that she recognised him too. Baelish might claim that Jaime’s identity was a secret he kept well locked but he knew better than to trust the man everyone called Littlefinger.

But Jaime could play along, and every time they ran into each other he’d call her “Alayne” and she’d call him “Arthur” and they’d each pretend that they weren’t living a lie to run away from the ghosts that haunted them.

It was a lonely life that he led, most of the time, so Sansa’s constant presence as a neighbour had been welcome. The girl had become a fast friend, though Jaime worriedly doubted her soft smiles sometimes. He could see why Baelish looked at her the way he did– she was hypnotising, enchanting, charming.

“Do you want some help with that?” Jaime called out, shutting the door behind him and stepping down the steps of his back porch towards the snowy terrain that Sansa was kneeling on.

She looked up at his voice with recognition in her eyes, and a small smile. “If you’d like.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he had built a snowman. It had to have been over thirty years ago, when Cersei and him would build armies of them, throw tomato soup over them and call their victories. He hadn’t been a part of Joffrey and Myrcella’s childhoods, and Tommen… he barely knew Tommen.

The snow was cold as he sunk down into it, on his knees as well. It hadn’t stopped snowing since last night, but Sansa didn’t seem to mind it.

Jaime had caught her turning her face to the sky with eyes closed a while back, and had his breath catch in his throat at seeing her look so young.

“My uncle is away,” Sansa piped up after a while of them gathering snow together into a big lump between them. “He’s gone off on business to the city.”

The city was hours away.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but he could feel the sudden tension between them. What had happened the other day… he hadn’t been able to put it out of his mind, but Petyr Baelish, small and unassuming as he was, was a dangerous man.

Jaime did not think he’d take nicely to finding out his protégée was kissing a Lannister behind his back.

The snow kept falling around them, and he ran his gloved hand over the edges of the snowman’s body, curving it with his touch. “Would you like some company until he returns?” he found himself asking, quietly, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

“Yes,” Sansa replied, mirroring his actions and smoothing her own hands over the snow. “I’ve only ever been to your house that one time. I’d like to see it again.”

It was freezing cold, so much that the snow was having no difficulty staying hard where they shaped it, and Jaime could feel himself having pretty much the same reaction.

“Then you must come,” he told her, lifting his face up to meet hers, and offered her a grin.

Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her hair was tied up in a braid that hung over her shoulder, and she was bundled up in layers that suddenly felt like a hundred barriers between them.

He didn’t know how long it took them to finish the snowman, but they did, and she ran back to the house to grab a scarf to wrap it around its head while Jaime picked up pebbles from the frozen shore to stick on as its facial features.

When they were finished they stepped back to admire their work, and Sansa stood next to him, her eyes bright and happy. “I haven’t done that since I was a child,” she admitted to him with a sigh.

“Neither have I.”

She turned her face up to look at him and without missing a beat, leaned up on her toes to press her lips to his cheek, warm against his cold skin, with specks of snow frozen into his beard.

Jaime watched with wonder as she took his hand in hers and took a step back, beckoning him with only her eyes, and said, with that low, careful voice of hers, “Let’s go inside.”


End file.
